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a hand on her, even to tie her wrists, would worsen their situation. Any insult would make pursuit more determined. They nearly won again, but the man who had called her a Norman bitch burst into a passionate tirade. Alinor could not follow all of it, but she caught enough to realize he was recalling the men's wrongs to them and urging them not to give even such comfort as the smooth gait of her own horse to one of the hated oppressors. There were murmurs of protest, but doubtful ones. Alinor was wrenched from her saddle. Her men struggled fruitlessly with their bonds at the insult. |
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"Norman bitch!" the man who held her spat again. |
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Alinor's breath caught at the expression on his face. Hatred was rapidly overcoming good sense. Although she had little concern with the purity of the body, Alinor certainly did not wish to be raped by 14 men. It would be an act of insanity. They would be hunted the length and breadth of England for such an act, but the danger was that they had no acknowledged leader. Any idea presented forcibly enough to their minds could sway them. The grip on Alinor tightened. |
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"If you harm me, your own captain will kill you," Alinor remarked quietly. |
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Before the man could make any response, one of the most nervous of the party started. "Something moved," he whispered tensely. "There is someone in the wood." |
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Quarrels were trained in one direction, then in another. Now all was silent except the hard breathing of the men, who stared nervously this way and that. |
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"Let us go. For God's sake, let us go. They may gather wood for the town here. Someone may have gone to get help." |
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"If someone has gone," the "Norman bitch" man snarled, "it is not for help. No one wishes to help these masters of ours." |
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"So you say, but I had a good lordtill the king ruined him," another replied. "I would have helped |
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